Two Sides of the Coin
by infinitylovers08
Summary: Two individuals with different nationalities, with two distinct personalities they are conscientiously struggling to hide from everyone who will judge them. As they grew older, keeping what they truly feel just to fit in, under this unusual circumstances will then meet at an equally bizarre condition that will bind them together—hoping to finally obtain true happiness.


**Two Sides of the Coin**

 **...**

 **A/N: I wonder who will read this.**

 **A good friend of mine who lives in the Philippines like me actually requested to write this as a gift on her birthday. That's why this is a semi-true to life story on how she met her Japanese boyfriend. I'm not that close to the guy so I will only write tidbits about his side of the story—based on the little info he shared with me. She asked me if she can be Lucy and her boyfriend as Gray since she shipped these two so hard. So I'd like to apologize first hand if it's a little OOC but I'll try my best.**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **And please don't forget to leave feedbacks of what you think about this story.**

…

 **Prologue 1: Her Side**

No one here probably knows this.

That I'm an introvert.

Or perhaps, it's more accurate to say I'm a "withdrawn" person with a touch of "eccentricity".

I came to know that fact during my Elementary School's Psychological Assessment Test. At that time, I didn't even know about its meaning until one of my smarter classmates told me what it stands for and laughed at my face.

When I reached first year of High School, I tried my best to hide that fact and became our non-pilot class' President followed by claiming the top spot of the class. My teachers and classmates trusted me, had faith of my leadership.

But the way I painstakingly tried to hide what I really am was not enough.

'Coz yet again, I was tormented because of my personality.

That's how I began to get addicted into watching anime and reading fiction books and manga—they became my salvation to reality.

Throughout my stay in high school, I had friends whom I can genuinely share laughs and experiences with.

But they can't relate to me.

And it was painful.

…

When I became a college student, I tried my hardest to change. I gained new friends with the same course as mine whom I met during enrollment. We were the loudest bunch on our first day of class because of our sheer number. I didn't know it was only temporary until all of them left one by one to form other groups within our class.

Initially, I'm honestly alright about their decision since I'm naturally fond of being alone. But I was terrified of the notion of being judged by my classmates so I had to force bonds with the others by acting lively and always smiling.

Then I became part of our department's publication.

Being part of it was one of the greatest experiences I had during college because I don't have to hide anything.

I met people like me—people who can relate to my personality.

And I was happy.

They were the ones who taught me other mediums to escape reality—through music and writing.

Yes, music—particularly alternative and rock music. Albeit being a publication club, most of us are musically inclined we can even form a rock band if we wanted to. They recommended bands and songs (Even some J-Rock and J-Pop songs because most of them are anime lovers like me—and they're cool like that.) which I can listen to during my "alone" times so I won't have to feel lonely.

Then there's writing—which was the most important part.

I wasn't even aware I had a knack for writing until two of my classmates insisted to join them in applying to our department's publication. We had a series of exams and interviews in which my classmates quit halfway through. So in the end, I was one of the 10 out of 100+ initial applicants on our whole department who got accepted—I was at the 9th place though.

Five of us were freshmen from different courses so we helped each other with our math subjects—sometimes even passed leakages.

I was so glad when I got to know my club mates—because we are truly the same.

No one will ask you why you aren't talking (Yeah, once or twice I went a whole day without talking to a single person. Why you ask? Just because.) and you can speak all you want 'coz you know they are listening. Even if they're not, you can still mumble weird and trivial things without them judging you.

Our conversation ranges from: "How many steps are there in the Eng'g Department?" up to: "Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?" or as trivial as: "Why do the seagulls cry?" and "Why do children eat their snot?" that other people who might be listening will call us odd balls.

Oh wait. They already did.

Because what we do to write an article was weird and somewhat radical.

There was one time when I struggled to learn how to play DOTA, joined 5V5 battles for two months and placed bets with my male classmates so I could write an article about "Trash-Talks within DOTA Players". There's also a time where I'm already finished enrolling on the first day but stand at the long cue lines during the last day of enrollment so I would be able to listen at the student's comments and complaints about the inconvenience of not having an online enrollment system. In the end, I didn't make it to the first day of the new semester because I had a fever ('Coz I didn't bring an umbrella when the cold rain hit me.)

But one of our senior writers was weirder to the point of abnormality. He hid at a male comfort room's cubicle the whole night so he can write an article about the rumored ghost at that particular restroom. A shadow didn't even appear so he tried again for another two nights. Did he get the article? Regrettably, no—because he got suspended on the fourth day and was banned to get near that comfort room until he graduates.

We joined student and union rallies because we took sides for the oppressed—but we're not activists. At least, that's what we tell to the university who might suspend us. We also held various activities and released reading materials which further proved our peculiarity and as you can see, I enjoyed myself very much during my stay there.

At third semester, I was transferred with two of my girl classmates and friends to the block section of another course because of the new enrollment system.

The admin actually read my article so they thought of a probable solution to lessen the long cue lines—by having a cut-off.

First 50 students in the same department? Check.

Unfortunately for us three early birds, and other less fortunate six students from other courses, we got mixed with forty-one students with the same course because majority of their class got there first thing in the morning. It was hard for us at first to part with our original classmates, but we adjusted fast because I became classmates with one of my club mates. From there, our group grew in number and we even formed a 5-man band with the other four as support. They frequently visit our house for sleepovers and they even spend Christmas with my family.

But as they say, "All good things must come to an end."

I shifted course because I realized my dream and I wanted to change for the better—to be true to myself. But at the same time, I ripped my rights to stay with the club and the band because my new course was of different department.

And once again, I'm alone.

…

* * *

 **Prologue 2: His Side of the Coin**

No one here probably knows this.

That I'm an extrovert.

And the fact that I used to be a popular kid.

Or it's more accurate to say I once belong at the top of the food chain.

But everything changed when I was accused of cheating by one of my classmates in Elementary School who was envious of my achievements. His assigned seat was in front of mine so he placed a cheat sheet behind my test paper when he placed it at my desk. I only took notice of its existence when I turned to answer the back page of the test paper. The teacher was conveniently at my side when it happened and it's an honest surprise on my part when she didn't believe me—said she never saw me asked questions after class unlike my other classmates. I can't help it. I already read in advance and can naturally understand the lessons.

I thought my classmates and so-called friends who always hang-out with me because of my popularity will believe me.

Apparently, no one did.

The rest of my Elementary years were painful. The only one who believed me—my soccer club adviser gave me and advice to enter a different prefecture in Middle School.

So I can start again.

My proud parents who can't believe I did such a petty thing as cheating agreed to send me to my grandmother at a faraway prefecture.

In Middle School, I tried to start anew. I became what you called an "average" student—terrified to be at the center of the crowd even though I knew deep down it's the only place I truly belong. I fit in, had friends who also didn't belong to clubs which I can go home together with—and occassionaly had fun at arcades and festivals, trying to find girlfriends.

But my class adviser in second year noticed my wit and everything I tried to hide. He coerced me to try for the position of Student Council President.

But no one voted for me.

Because yet again, no one believed in me.

…

Then I applied at a High School three stations away from my previous school so I can try to start all over again. I tried my hardest to change—believed I will be able to pull off the "dumb" character.

Yes, my High School debut was really boring and I also became a boring person with an added laziness. Thankfully, no one bullied me or made me a gofer because I have an above average height with lean and natural sturdy built.

I survived two years acting like that.

It was really hard.

I'm always in pain for not using my excessive pent-up energy and not having anyone to understand me, the real me.

Then it changed when one of my female classmates in third year suddenly blurted out during lunch break: I think he's fun!

It appears that they were talking about me.

One of my classmates I hang out with was cousins with the girl who burst at the middle of lunch and told me that the girls in class thought of me as a "waste of a handsome face". Should I be happy to be called handsome?

Nope.

Rather, it's an insult.

That is, every morning my daily routine was: waking up early to heavily exercise so I can release my energy, practicing my bored, dumb and lazy expression in front of the mirror, making sure my tie is crooked and my uniform looked untidy, not combing my hair—just ruffled it to make myself presentable. Lastly, I'm not using any kind of perfume—just the smell of sweat lingers on my skin.

But it seems my goal to make myself undesirable and not wanting to be at the center of the crowd had an opposite effect.

I was told I looked "manly" to the girls since day 1.

And that my face was wasted on me—because I was dumb.

The strong urge to laugh with him when he told that to me was carefully hidden at the pits of my stomach. I thought I perfected my façade.

Apparently not.

Because his cousin was looking straight to my face, assesing every move of my facial muscles and she knows—what I'm trying to hide when she burst again to her friends: See?! He's fun!

The months followed were memories I will never forget.

With her, I didn't have to hide under a build-up character. She will force me to talk with her every break and it delighted her when I laughed at her jokes and stories. I went with her at the beach to show her my favorite past-time every summer—surfing. Then she invited me to snowboard with her middle school friends during winter because I once mentioned to her about winning at a snowboarding competition in first year high school.

Without me knowing, we became a well-known couple at school—the cheerful and supporting girlfriend and the boyfriend who only shows his manliness in front of the girlfriend.

But I was still afraid of getting judged so I didn't tell her how I became like this—because she will never understand. She can never relate to what I experienced—to not having anyone believe in you.

Good thing I didn't though.

Because at graduation when I asked her how we can continue our relationship, she brushed me off by saying she only used me to get popular at school—so she can be remembered as the girl who tamed the guy with "waste of a handsome face".

I called my parents that day, begging them to send me to another country for college.

And once again, I run away.

…

 **TBC**

* * *

 **A/N: Please tell me what you think!**

 **For added information, the grading system in the Philippines was only changed recently which is now K-12 (Kindergarten to Grade 12). But before that, our grading system was like this:**

 **Nursery (4 years old)**

 **Kindergarten 1 &2 (5-6 years old)**

 **Grade 1-6 (7-12 years old)**

 **High School, 4 years (13-16 years old)**

 **College, 4/5 years (17-20/21 years old)**

 **The female protaganist's age in this chapter is 18 years old, same age with the male protaganist's age who just finished high school in Japan.**


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